Posts Tagged ‘severe mental retardation’

Shia Leboeuf’s celebretard art installation “He will not divide us” has finally divided us.

It started with Shia himself attacking an attendee and being arrested for assault. Originally created as a “peaceful protest” to “bring people together” where anyone was encouraged to record their statements on a camera which would repeat the video in perpetuity, the street found its own use for things and soon crowds of people started showing up, including those with opposing views.

“The installation created a serious and ongoing public safety hazard for the museum, its visitors, staff, local residents, and businesses.” – Museum of the Moving Image

Opposing views are not welcome in the world of political correctness, and so Shia physically assaulted an exhibit attendee, and, as he was carted away in handcuffs, his parting words of tolerance and peace were, “How are we going to make this shit okay to be a Nazi out here?”

“Over the course of the installation, there have been dozens of threats of violence and numerous arrests, such that police felt compelled to be stationed outside the installation 24 hours a day, seven days a week.” – Museum of the Moving Image

Opened on January 20, the exhibit ran a mere 5 days before Shia’s arrest and was shut down less than 2 weeks later.

“The Museum Has Abandoned Us.” Shia tweeted after the exhibit’s closing, completely ignoring the fact that it is his own fault, and it all went fine until he attacked someone.

HAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA etc, etc, etc.

 

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If you want the Uruguay experience:

  • Take a blanket and soak it with water.
  • Get a filthy dog and soak it with water.
  • Drill holes in your roof.
  • Break half your plumbing, short out half of your electrical system. Not just half-assed breaking, no, make sure that shit’s leaking into the walls and shorting stuff out everywhere.
  • Rip out all your insulation.
  • Then turn the AC down to 50 degrees, and lay under the soggy blanket with the wet dog so you can experience what everything smells and feels like here (Obligatory Mold Smell + dog ass), while you try and get a bunch of disinterested, hopeless, unskilled morons (extra-special drooling short-bus morons) to fix all the broken stuff. Using all the wrong tools (bubble gum, masking tape, and coat hangers get you bonus points).
  • Oh, and pay 3x as much as you normally pay for the cheaper version of the stuff you usually buy.
  • Then fire some morons, and help them sue you.
  • If you want to get around, buy an ancient piece of shit car from 1970 and spend US$8000 on it.
  • Then pay $8 per gallon to fuel it.
  • Call someone to deliver something tomorrow, but then tell him you really meant next week but hey, why not just do it in a month, or not at all, if that’s what suits him. After all, you are a paying customer!

I’m sure I am missing about 500 other things but this should get you well on your way.

No, I didn’t tag this as humor because it’s not really funny.

It’s been a while since I have written anything. The main reason is *probably* because I have been on a strict media fast. It makes me much happier burying my head in the sand. I’ve been happy playing with my little hydroponic garden with my 1000 pet ladybugs (who reproduce better than rabbits– all they do is screw and make babies!) and my homebrew video game projects and myriad other spinning plates.

I tend not to write much when I am happy. It’s more an outlet for my rage. Obviously. You people are rage vampires, feeding on the rancid bloodborne vitriol of my angst!

Drowning in a sea of morons is a voluntary choice. Once in a while they moron on you (I have just made moron into a verb) and you have to scrub it off (with bleach), but for the most part, it seems like you can go about your daily life without getting soiled.

Well, sorta…

debtchart2014

But yeah, buy metals and commodities and hunker down and hope for the best because you have prepared for the worst.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the Death Star. It’s easier here, getting things done. Well, sorta…

Never buy a condo under mine. Seriously.

A couple weeks back I found a wet spot in my guest bedroom carpet. Having no pets, it was a curious thing. So I vacuumed it up with the neighbor’s carpet shampooer and went about my daily life. The wet spot kept getting bigger. And more soggy. To the point where a pond was forming in the floor. And so I called the condo nazis to inform them that we had a leak, and to inquire about the process of getting it dealt with.

“We’ll send the plumbers over,” Gemeinschaftsleiter Frau Darth Murrischegesicht says, and so they did.

“Oh, this is definitely your AC condensate line,” PlumberBob tells me, after taking a 2-minute look at everything, “Not our thing. You have to call your AC guy.”

And so I call the AC guy, and he comes over, and we change the AC condensate line to drain into the water heater’s emergency overflow pan drain line.

Yet the pond continued to grow.

And so I called the insurance company and they said to deal with Gemeinschaftsleiter Frau Darth Murrischegesicht, and Gemeinschaftsleiter Frau Darth Murrischegesicht said to deal with the insurance company, and the plumbers said to deal with the AC guy and the AC guy and I did our best and it didn’t help.

Meanwhile, water began to leak into the ceiling of the downstairs neighbors. Which is why you should never buy a condo under mine. Seriously.

This whole situation is merely a microcosm of why governments are such bullshit– if there is this much moronism in such a simple situation, imagine what it’s like on a national level. Actually, don’t. It will depress the shit out of you.

So a week goes by with me getting angrier and angrier because the people who insist they know what they know do not actually know what they insist that they know, and are, in fact, surprising me at their very existence and continued ability to pick up food and put it into their own mouths. And the water continues to leak.  Meanwhile I am pulling the weight of all the idiots who should be fixing this– 10 gallons of water per day out of just the dehumidifier and the whole place is starting to reek of wet carpet and mold. 5 fans on, hourly passes with the carpet shampooer to suck the water out of the carpet. Setting up buckets and pans in a one-man reverse bucket brigade to keep my downstairs neighbor’s place from flooding. It literally squishes up water out from underfoot when you walk in there.

Sounds kind of like a small-scale model of what is going on with the feds.

And so I recruited my neighbor and we picked up a hammer and a drywall saw and went to town on the walls. And surprise surprise, we found the leak. A broken pipe was pissing a geyser of water out into the insulation, which was running down inside the wall and into the floor. And so we called the plumbers and told them what was going on, and they said they would come by.

A few more hours passed and we said, “fuck this, let’s fix it ourselves,” and so we did. The plumbers showed up at 9pm, 8 hours later. I told them to take a hike, since we’d gotten tired of waiting and did their jobs for them.

So the next day, I go in and tell Gemeinschaftsleiter Frau Darth Murrischegesicht that she will be paying me back for the work I have done, the repairs, the new carpet pad, etc etc etc and she agrees, but get this– she insists that the plumbers come in and inspect the repair before she can sign off on it!!! HAHAHAHA!

Yes. I laugh. Heartily.

You fuckers refuse to do anything to fix a plumbing issue that is clearly your domain (it’s even in the condo docs) and then demand the final say in someone actually getting up to do it themselves!? And then send the same crew of droolers to inspect the propriety of something they both misidentified and refused to take responsibility for when it was clearly their responsibility?

Wow… How… government!

(yes, I just turned moron into a verb, and government into an adjective)

I just replaced the old fire extinguisher on my escape boat, since the water nazis saw fit to cite me for its lack of charge, and so I thought it might be a good idea to see if I could recharge the old one and keep it in the Evil Swamp Lair. And so I called the local fire department.

“Sorry, we don’t do that, and unfortunately we are not allowed to tell you where to go to get it done.”

“What?! Are you not the people to call about fire prevention and safety? How is NOT telling me where to get it recharged in any way good for anyone?”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s the law. It would probably be cheaper anyway to just go get a new one.”

Not content with shooting one foot off with the removal of their banking secrecy, Uruguay’s parliament recently ratified (August 26) an absurd new law that bans all cash transactions over US$5000. In addition, special information will need to be filed if said money originates outside the country.

It’s funny, really, because Uruguay’s main movements in real estate for the past decade have been made by flight capital from Argentina and other countries. A couple of years back, they removed banking secrecy as it pertained to sharing information with Argentina, wherein real estate transactions and large bank deposits had to be reported to the AFIP. That wasn’t good enough, because then the deposits just started to become smaller (duh), so in order to curb this awful activity of foreigners paying Uruguayans for their land and construction labor, something must be done, a nuclear option which will screw even the locals!

Movement of any kind will not be tolerated.

Considering that many Uruguayans probably don’t have a bank account at all, let alone a debit card, and 2/3 of them live in rural areas without banks, it will be interesting to see how this pans out. I am guessing that most stuff will just go black-market, and the areas outside of Montevideo will just separate themselves more and more from the stupidity of the little Tupamaro empire.

I just finished my Atheist Xmas shopping, as far as I am willing to let it go, buying Chilean Huaso hats for my nephews. Crazy Uncle ExpatBob has to start the bribes when they are young. As the renovations on the Secret Chilean Volcano Lair are finally complete, and since there is no longer a 15mm daily accumulation of dust (due to the complete and unexplainable absence of wet-saws for tile in the Southern Hemisphere), I can deliver said nice things to the lair for storage until they need to be deployed.

On the way back to the BobMobile’s parking space, I came to an intersection where I must make a left turn. A taxi was coming from the right, and he had the right of way, so I let him through and pulled up to the intersection. Then, someone’s stray dog, dragging its leash on the ground, ran straight into the intersection and dawdled around like a complete idiot. Both myself and the taxi driver started honking to try and scare it out of the road.

Then, this lady comes into the crosswalk from my left side. “Can you pull forward so I can pass?” she asks me.

Now there is no reason why this lady could not have simply walked around my car. It’s a shitty little Suzuki, which is probably shorter front to back than I am tall. So maximum course deviation for this pedestrian is perhaps a single meter. I can’t pull forward. I can’t back up. I can’t remember how to ask, “Are you fucking kidding me?” in Spanish, so instead I point at the retarded dog doing donuts in the intersection, towards which both myself and the taxi driver are directing a considerable racket.

“Seriously? Are you not seeing this?” I ask her.

RetardLady then starts in on me why I should “Respetar los peatones,” and other such nonsense, while she stands IN THE ROAD, BLOCKING TRAFFIC, next to my car. She herself could have been run over. The time she spent, flapping her gums, could have had her across the street and well on her way, but instead she just stood there waiting for me to cross. Instead of paying attention to what she was saying, I fantasized about running over the dog, and then backing over RetardLady. Repeatedly. Spin the tires for good measure, and peel out in a steaming trail of her guts. Feel that wet thud through the chassis as the tires fling RetardDog into the wheel well and whip his flailing corpse into the air, like a pitching machine. Ohhh, yes…

Finally the dog decided to exit the Darwin zone, the taxi passed, and I had the space to turn left. So I did, abandoning RetardLady mid-sentence.

In my rearview, I saw the dog following her down the sidewalk, sticking to her heels as if it was hers.

AAAAAARGH!

 

 

If you spend any time in Latin America, you will find that things happen with a bizarre, backwards-zero-sum lack of logic that makes your head spin. Part of understanding this has to do with understanding the Viveza Criolla and its influence on the way the people think.

The Viveza Criolla, also shortened to “Vivo” is a behavioral phenomenon in Spanish-speaking, Latin-based cultures, whereby an individual tries to screw someone else over before his victim has a chance to do the same to the perpetrator. They brush off the guilt by saying, “Si no robo yo, robará otro (If I don’t steal from you, someone else will),” as if you should thank them for the privilege of being robbed by someone you know!

It is their way of forcing a zero-sum outcome to snag it away from the other guy before he even has a chance. It has become a way that society rigs outcomes in favor of schemers and shysters, and punishes the honest. It is to blame for the tiring plague of ingrained lack of trust, the penchant for socialist nonsense, and the laziness, lack of work ethic, and disdain for self-starters and those who wish to excel.

There is no literal translation for Viveza Criolla that fits, and the best a local has ever come up with to explain it to me is to describe it as a “Wiseguy” mentality. Some describe it as “artful lying.”

The term Vivo can be used as a noun for the act itself, or as the formal title of its perpetrator. The Vivo is viewed by its winner as, well, a way to get ahead. The Vivo is viewed by bystanders as a “good for him,” one-up street cred for the winner. The Vivo is seen by the loser as a part of life, and a learning opportunity not to be repeated (so he is more apt to pull the Vivo on someone else before the Vivo is pulled on him).

The Vivo, when caught, is a sort of wink-wink-nudge-nudge situation that is treated with an “oh, haha, you got me!” attitude, whereby both the victim and bystanders are expected to catch it first; if they fail to counter-Vivo, they are expected to take blame for losing because they were not sharp enough to see it coming. It is a bizarre backhanded outsourcing of responsibility.

Regardless of the result, the dynamic of the Viveza Criolla places more importance on getting away with the heist, than the actual fruits of the labor.

In the Vivo game mechanic, the instigator of the Vivo has nothing to lose, and is, in fact, strangely one-upped for being caught (you charming devil)! The loser, if he catches it, is also one-upped for catching the instigator. However if the instigator does not get caught, he is one-upped while the loser is one-downed. Heads I win, Tails you lose. It is, quite literally, nonzero game mechanics turned inside out.

And no, the bystanders will not necessarily warn the victim of his impending fall to the Vivo, for it is his responsibility and his alone to see it. After the fact, oh yes, they will all come by and say “Oh, yeah, we knew about that but we didn’t want to seem nosy.” Which flies in the face of Latino culture because they are the most inherently gossipy bunch of people I have ever encountered.

If the victim is lucky, someone might pull him aside and say something like, “Ojo, es muy vivo ese (Watch out, that guy is very untrustworthy).”

The Viveza Criolla is a negative, destructive cancer upon the social and economic fabric of Latin America, and one of the reasons the region cannot seem to pull head from ass and get its act together. It is the reason why Latin Americans do not trust each other, and, as the Peruvians are apt to say, “Your own hand cannot even trust what the other one is doing.” It is the reason for short-term profit taking with complete disregard to future business prospects, and lack of customer service.

This trust issue is not just between buyer and seller; it can happen with any agreement, from simply getting together for lunch, to major property deals, to selling a car, to employing someone, etc. To keep it elementary I will just describe the parties as “buyer” and “seller.”

Often times the seller, after making an agreement, will pull the Vivo and actually sabotage the deal, thinking that he is getting undercut somehow by the buyer, after they have already settled on the details of the deal. Thus, when some are negotiating prices (for real estate in particular), the seller jumps the gun on the Vivo, thinking he can get a better deal because “hey, there’s interest shown in this thing, that means I am not asking enough!” Counteroffers then come back to the buyer higher than the original asking price!

Often times the seller will simply kill the deal because he gets too nervous, thinking that smooth sailing means the worst, and that he will get really screwed in the end. It’s almost as if they cannot contemplate a square deal at all.

Sometimes the buyer, despite wanting what it is that he is after, will sabotage the deal after the fact because he thinks that it is too good to be true. Or something about the seller makes him question the quality of the merchandise. Both parties will analyze and re-analyze every little interaction until they have made themselves paranoid. This is why there is no such thing as customer service in Latin America. You are expected to deal with it if the seller fails to provide, because after all, it is your responsibility if you got stuck with the wrong end of the Vivo.

Another aspect which the Vivo invades is employment and contracted relationships. The roundabout Vivo thinking will invade the mind so much that if a mistake is made, the party at fault will feel the need to blame the wronged party and create extra drama around the whole situation whereby the one at fault will attempt to shift the blame and make themselves appear the victim. “I am being exploited! How dare you demand I show up at 9 and work until 5?! How dare you hold me accountable when I say I will be here tomorrow and I don’t show up until next week!”

Thieves, when caught, will become angry and try to turn the situation around, claiming “faltándole el respeto,” that you are disrespecting them, as if they deserve any.

The Vivo thinking is a source of much of the “Mañanismo” (tomorrowism) that has killed the work ethic, since it provides an excuse for them not to do anything. Why, they will be exploited for sure– better to screw the boss over first, before he can exploit the workers!

It’s very hard to explain, and I have tried my best, but there it is. You will encounter it if you venture into Latin America, so watch for it; maybe you can see it coming, maneuver it to your advantage, and get Vivo street cred for cutting it off at the pass.

Special thanks to BeelzeBob for helping me to understand 🙂

 

PS. The book is at 85 pages and counting…